Shakespeare was rather enjoying the chance for some time to himself. Sadly though it seemed that was going to end rather soon. Bright eyes would quickly look away from the land as another suddenly came bounding up to him, questioning whether he was lost. He certainly had no idea who this wolf was and he wasn't entirely certain that it was a good idea to find out. He had more than enough to keep him occupied with his family let alone strangers appearing and causing more trouble for his life.
His little head began to shake in response. He was pretty certain he could find his way back to the range and his family but before he could explain any of that the fiery woman was speaking once more. This time it was to alert him of facts he already knew. Well of course he had no way of knowing if she really was nice and charming (whatever that word meant anyway) but he knew wolves could be mean and nasty. "I know. My brother is not very nice." He informed her of this fact rather bluntly.
Now he looked a little closer he'd notice the little cut upon her head. No healer of course at his young age and never actually having cut himself before the idea of the injury was a rather new one. He knew the smell of blood of course, from prey that was brought in but this was a wolf, not dinner there shouldn't be any blood. The logical explanation was that she hadn't cleaned herself up properly after dinner. "You've got something on your head." He decided to share this fact with her. Maybe as a grown-up she didn't have her mother there to clean her up when she missed a spot.
